


Chicken And Rice

by 90sSlasherFan



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Bondage, Coming Untouched, Finger Sucking, Hand Feeding, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Rough Sex, Size Kink, Smut, Unsafe Sex, Verbal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:34:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27856025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/90sSlasherFan/pseuds/90sSlasherFan
Summary: Friend wanted me to write porn of this pairing, so I did. Even tho I can't stand it.Also I did not proofread so PLEASE point out any typos
Relationships: Komaeda Nagito/Nidai Nekomaru
Comments: 6
Kudos: 43





	Chicken And Rice

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy, K9

In the end it came down to rock paper scissors – best two out of three.

Rock crushed scissors first, then scissors cut paper, and in the tie-breaking round, paper covered rock.

It was almost funny, Nekomaru thought, how small and frail Kazuichi’s soft hand looked overlapping the Herculean mass of his own fist. And even funnier was the almost symbolic end to their game; Kazuichi, pale and thin like paper, had somehow beaten Nekomaru, calloused and solid like a rock.

Maybe he should’ve picked a different game to settle the argument, but in the end it didn’t really matter. Nekomaru was often bested by his guilty conscience, so forcing Kaz to do something he so clearly dreaded would’ve just chipped away at him, especially considering he was already wracked with guilt over what he and Kaz had done.

Conceding his defeat as respectfully as any world-class team manager would, Nekomaru made his way to the restaurant under the inky veil of the night sky. It had to be nighttime, lest he run the risk of bumping into another classmate. Was classmate the right word anymore? Sure they were all still here on a school trip, but given everything that had happened, “fellow victims” seemed a more fitting title than something like “classmates” or “peers.”

These thoughts occupied Nekomaru’s mind as he passed the pool and softly – well, as softly as a man of his stature could – made his way up the stairs and into the restaurant. Once in the kitchen, he immediately felt out of his element. Nekomaru liked to eat, no mistaking that, but actually preparing food was a skill that had always escaped him. It probably had something to do with the fact that he didn’t really care about taste; food was sustenance and fuel, and he usually ate so quickly he couldn’t really savor any flavor even if there was any. So rather than attempting to make something one would consider a “dish,” Nekomaru turned to his go-to meal: chicken and rice.

Maybe it wasn’t the grandest meal one could eat, but it was damn healthy. Besides, Nekomaru couldn’t rationalize devoting time to make sure a prisoner got a fine dining experience.

Prisoner.

Nekomaru cringed at the term, and the guilt began gnawing at his gut again. Restraining Nagito had been Kazuichi’s idea and though Nekomaru was hesitant, he had to concede that Nagito was too dangerous to just waltz around the island unchecked. Nekomaru imagined they’d just lock him in his cabin, but when Kazuichi busted out the ropes and chains, Nekomaru’s compliance became increasingly reluctant, only coaxed into following through with it by Kaz reminding him that it was for the good of the group.

Maybe that was true, but Nekomaru was a firm believer that two wrongs didn’t make a right, and this whole scenario was riding the line of right and wrong like a circus performer pedaling a unicycle across a tightrope. To try and make up for the moral… ickiness of the situation, Nekomaru had suggested to Kaz that they bring Nagito food so he doesn’t starve. Kazuichi’s original reaction was something along the lines of “it takes more than a day to starve to death,” but that didn’t sit right with Nekomaru. Considering Nekomaru had the advantage of his size and Kazuichi had the _disadvantage_ of cowardice, that argument resolved itself pretty quickly, and subsequently devolved into the discussion of who would bring him food.

While Nekomaru would’ve happily volunteered to spare another argument, he had some apprehensions based on who exactly the prisoner was. Nagito, unhinged and volatile as he was, had quite the silver tongue, and Nekomaru knew himself to be someone who was, in simplest terms, very gullible. Plus, Nekomaru had a weak spot for pretty boys, and Nagito was very, very pretty.

An attempted murderer and unapologetically deranged, but pretty nonetheless.

Kazuichi of course didn’t want to go near Nagito with a ten-foot pole, and the obvious solution was to settle the dispute with either a coin toss or some other little game. Thus, paper beat rock, and now Nekomaru was bringing Nagito a plate piled with chicken and more rice than anyone could possibly eat in one sitting.

The walk to Nagito was trepidatious to say the least. Each step sent a jolt of some bizarre, electric concoction of emotion through Nekomaru’s body. Guilt, contemplation, wariness, dread – each nerve in his body shivered with these feelings as he finally found himself at the doors of the abandoned dining hall. It was daunting, for some reason that escaped Nekomaru. He took comfort in the fact that, should things go sour, Nagito would never be able to overpower him, but that didn’t make him less cautious of the other man’s cunning.

Oh well.

Nothing was going to get done standing in the middle of the hall, so Nekomaru opened the doors and was greeted… with darkness.

Oh shit. Had they left Nagito in total darkness? Nekomaru’s guilt doubled.

Balancing the plate of food in one hand, he felt along the wall with his other, searching for the light switched. He fumbled for a few seconds before –

 _Click_.

Nekomaru had half a mind to recoil and shield his eyes from the blinding fluorescence, but he realized that would only end in him flinging a plate of food across the room, so he just squinted instead as he scanned the area. Sure enough, Nagito was exactly where they left him, chained up and gagged in the middle of the room. Except, he was sitting up on his knees, staring directly at Nekomaru.

First of all, creepy.

Second of all, had he been awake the entire time?

Nekomaru found himself unable to do anything other than stare back at Nagito like a deer in headlights – or in Nekomaru’s case, like an ox in headlights.

Silence permeated the air as tension built in Nekomaru’s gut. Someone had to say something, and since Nagito was literally unable to speak, Nekomaru took the reins.

“I brought you food.” Nekomaru thanked God for the gravelly timbre of his voice, because it was able to conceal the nervous cracks in it as he spoke.

Nagito’s reply came in the form of a tilted head and a high pitched, affirmative half-whine half-grunt. Nekomaru was already regretting this. But regretful or not, it was too late to back out now, so he closed the space between them and squatted down in front of Nagito. Even lowering himself like that, Nekomaru still loomed over the smaller man, and anyone with sense probably would’ve cowered away, but Nagito, of course, just probed Nekomaru with wide eyes and a frustratingly innocent expression.

“I brought you chicken and rice. Is that… do you like that?” It was a knee-jerk type of question, one that Nekomaru asked out of polite habit, so he was taken aback when Nagito shook his head in response. Nekomaru huffed in growing frustration. “Well will you eat it?”

A brief pause. Nagito never took his eyes off of Nekomaru, but he eventually shrugged in what would be the closest thing to a “yes” Nekomaru could probably get from the man.

Nekomaru took it as a victory nonetheless and proceeded with steeling himself for what had to come next.

“Ok. Uh… I have to take your gag off so you can eat. You’re not gonna do anything crazy, are you?”

No reply.

Not really sure what to do with that, Nekomaru brought his thick fingers up to the edge of the cloth on either side of where he guessed Nagito’s lips were.

“I’m gonna take this off now, ok? Don’t scream or anything.”

No reply. Again. This time Nekomaru considered what to do next a bit longer. While he contemplated, he kept his fingers pressed against Nagito’s face, and the sensation was enough to pull him from his thoughts for a moment. Nagito was cold, which was to be expected of someone left where they left him, but he was also incredibly soft. Without meaning to, Nekomaru slowly began to move his fingers back and forth over Nagito’s cheeks, using the calloused pads of his fingertips to appraise the smooth flesh underneath them. Sometimes Nekomaru forgot that not everyone was as rough and jagged as he was, so he was easily distracted by anyone he thought was soft.

A quirked brow and muffled “hm?” snapped Nekomaru from his transfixion, and in a flustered effort to play off the awkward moment, he tugged the gag off Nagito’s mouth, revealing the faintest of smirks

underneath.

“Thanks.” Nagito’s voice wasn’t at all strained or weary. He definitely didn’t sound like someone that had been kidnapped and bound for a day, and Nekomaru wasn’t sure what to make of that.

“No problem.” This wasn’t a conversation. Nekomaru didn’t know why he was replying so casually. Lucky for him, Nagito was a bit of a chatterbox, so he didn’t have much time to scold himself for being buddy-buddy with his hostage.

“I don’t really like chicken. Do you have pork instead?”

So? Nekomaru wasn’t responsible for catering to Nagito’s taste! Nagito was a prisoner; he had no right to ask for different food or complain about his meal. Nekomaru had half a mind to tell him off and leave without letting him eat.

“But chicken is healthy.” This time, Nekomaru did scold himself.

“If you say so. You _are_ the Ultimate Team Manager after all. I trust you know how to take care of someone else’s body.”

Hold on now.

What?

That was a fucking weird thing to say, but Nagito was looking at him like he just asked about the weather.

Nekomaru fumbled for a reply. “Uh. Yeah. I keep all my athletes on a strict diet. It’s different depending on what sport they play, but chicken and rice is a good choice for anyone to trying to bulk up.” Nekomaru was rambling at this point, but he didn’t care.

“I see.” Nagito deadpanned. “Well, I don’t want to be rude and not eat the food you made for me – after all, you took time out of your day to cook for someone as worthless as me,” Nekomaru cringed at the deprecation, but let Nagito kept going, “but I can’t exactly eat with my hands tied behind my back.”

Oh yeah. Duh.

Nekomaru mentally slapped his forehead because _obviously_ Nagito couldn’t eat while he was tied up, and then proceeded to shuffle so he could reach the restraints on Nagito’s wrists and –

“Wait a second!” Nekomaru yanked his hands back. “Is this some kind of trick?!”

What was Nagito’s plan here? Get Nekomaru to free his arms so he could use some kind of sleight-of-hand trick to tie up Nekomaru? Then smash the plate over his head and use the broken pieces to slit –

“There’s no trick. I’m not stupid enough to think I could overpower an Ultimate, let alone an athlete like you. I just wanted to make things easier for you.”

…Oh. Nekomaru had no way to believe him, and frankly no reason to, but the logic _did_ check out. It was unlikely that anyone would try to challenge Nekomaru to a fight, and considering Nagito had a much smaller frame than most, it didn’t seem plausible that he would attempt anything physical. Still, it was better to err on the side of caution.

“Sorry,” Again, why was Nekomaru apologizing, “but I don’t think I trust you.”

Nagito’s eyes softened to something that almost resembled sadness.

“I understand. I’m sorry I even asked. I should’ve known better.”

This. This was what Nekomaru hated even more than the lunacy. Every time Nagito opened his mouth and more self-deprecating drivel came out, it went right to Nekomaru’s gut. It was in his nature to inspire others and to show them their worth, so even when someone as objectively…problematic as Nagito put himself down, Nekomaru had this urge to tell him everything beautiful and worthy about him. Of course he had to fight those urges lest he ruin the whole “you’re a prisoner because you’re a danger to the island” thing they had going on, but it was starting to irritate him.

“Stop apologizing. I’ll just feed you myself.”

“With what.”

Fuck.

Nekomaru had forgotten a fork and knife. Truthfully, he wasn’t in the mood to go all the way back to the restaurant for something as trivial as utensils, but he couldn’t exactly have Nagito eat the food off his plate like a dog, so he wasn’t left with much of a choice.

“Here.” Nekomaru tore off a piece of chicken with his fingers and held it up to Nagito’s face. Willing mind over matter, he tried to convince himself that it wasn’t weird, that it was the only logical action in this situation. But something about the subtle movement of Nagito’s eyes from Nekomaru’s face, to the chicken, and back to his face let Nekomaru know that, yeah… it was weird.

He was about to pull back when Nagito leaned forward with barely parted lips and took the chicken into his mouth.

Fuck.

This was definitely the wrong way to proceed, because now Nekomaru had committed to feeding him this entire plate by hand, and the situation was becoming so intimate that Nekomaru was barely staving off the urge to sprint out of the room and never look back.

“Can I have another piece?”

Son of a bitch.

“Of course!” Nekomaru yelled because of course he did. With shaky fingers, he took another chunk of chicken and braced himself for Nagito to take a bite. This time, however, Nagito locked eyes with Nekomaru before leaning in and wrapped his mouth around the chicken. The gesture elicited what was akin to fireworks in Nekomaru’s gut. The warm heat of Nagito’s mouth combined with the sensation of his soft lips around his fingers was making Nekomaru dizzy, and to make things worse, he could’ve sworn he felt the slightest movement of Nagito’s tongue against his pointer.

His instinct was to flinch and snatch his hand away, but then Nagito _moaned_ around his fingers, and Nekomaru froze.

As though he sensed Nekomaru’s state, Nagito deadpanned, with puppy dog eyes, “It’s good chicken.”

“I thought you didn’t like chicken.” Was the least dumb response Nekomaru could muster, though he was honestly using the majority of his concentration to will away the growing heat below his belt.

Then the conversation continued like a game of ping pong.

“I know. But you made this really well.”

“I didn’t do anything to it.”

“Well it tasted really good.”

“It’s just chicken.”

“I was talking about your fingers.”

And Nekomaru couldn’t return that volley. Point to Nagito.

“What did you say?!”

Nagito, doe-eyed as ever, cocked his head and replied, “I think I was pretty clear. The chicken was nice, but it felt a lot better to have your fingers in my mouth. Should I not have said that?”

This was exactly what Nekomaru was afraid of. Nagito’s tongue.

Not even like _that_ , but just the way he spoke. The cunning of his mind and the saccharine deceit in every word he spoke. He was dangerous and Nekomaru knew he was dangerous, but dammit he was pretty and his voice was pretty and his eyes were pretty and –

“What are you doing?” Nekomaru’s voice quivered as Nagito brought his face closer again to his fingers, which he hadn’t realized he was still holding in front of his lips. Nagito replied to the question merely by taking Nekomaru’s pointer into his mouth and sucking gently.

This time it was Nekomaru who groaned at the gentle ministrations of Nagito’s lips and tongue, and after a few moments, Nagito brought Nekomaru’ s middle finger in as well. The air in Nekomaru’s lungs was trapped as he found himself unable to breathe in any way; the situation felt too delicate for any movement on his part. Just let Nagito do what he was doing, that was Nekomaru’s plan.

And what Nagito was doing was exactly what he’d planned on doing when Nekomaru came into the room. Nagito had a profound appreciation for every Ultimate, but something about Nekomaru was different. He used his talent to inspire hope in others, to build others up and find something special about them. Maybe a selfish part of Nagito hoped that Nekomaru could use his talent to find something of worth in him, assuming he had any time to waste on a nobody like Nagito.

Nekomaru devoted himself to other people, and Nagito had this uncontrollable urge to devote himself to Nekomaru, and that’s exactly what he planned on doing.

The fingers in his mouth were a solid weight against his tongue, and the rough texture was surprisingly pleasant. But even more pleasant were the astonished gasps and grunts flowing from Nekomaru, like he was a leaky faucet of unabashed excitement. Sensing – and seeing – Nekomaru’s growing arousal, Nagito pulled away in a rare moment of pity.

“Is everything ok, Nekomaru?” The question was condescendingly coy, but Nagito knew it would go right over Nekomaru’s head.

“I –” His voice came out in a shout, like always, before he dropped it to a hoarse whisper. “I shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Why not?” Nagito took the opportunity to kiss at Nekomaru’s knuckles. The fact that Nekomaru had yet to pull away his hand told Nagito that he was good to keep going; he had him right where he wanted him.

Nekomaru let out a shaky exhale as he tried to convince himself, “Because! It’s wrong. You’re tied up and –”

The set up was too perfect.

“Oh, don’t worry about that. I don’t deserve to touch you with my hands, or to even touch myself. Trust me, it’s better this way. I like it.”

If the bob of Nekomaru’s large Adam’s apple as he swallowed was any indicator, that line had worked exactly as intended.

“But you’re here as a punishment because… but, you’re our prisoner or something!”

Nagito tried his hardest not to let his smirk show. “Oh I see. Since I’m your prisoner, you don’t want me to have any control of the situation.”

“What?! No, that’s –”

“Ok, then.” Nagito shuffled on his knees so his back was to Nekomaru and he leaned forward so his cheek was pressed against the floor. He kept his back arched and his thighs straight up, essentially presenting himself to Nekomaru as best he could with his legs and wrists bound.

What followed was a tense silence, only broken by the soft panting of Nekomaru. Nagito knew better than to get impatient, he couldn’t imagine the other would end things now. He wouldn’t try to force anything, obviously, but he had a feeling Nekomaru was craving some kind of a release for all that pent up energy he must have. Plus, Nagito considered it an unimaginable pleasure to let an Ultimate use him to feel good, so this predicament would be mutually beneficial; there was no good reason for either party to back out.

Nekomaru must have realized this, because soon enough his gruff hands were oafishly undoing the knots of the restraints on Nagito’s legs.

“Just let me know if you want to stop.”

Nagito didn’t even dignify that with a response, he merely let Nekomaru shimmy his jeans down his thighs, lifting his knees to allow the other to slide them all the way off.

“Shit.” Nekomaru placed his hand on Nagito’s ass, and he could feel the way that even just his palm was large enough to almost entirely cover his cheek. Placing his left hand adjacent to the other, Nekomaru gently spread Nagito and casually rubbed his thumb over the exposed flesh. “Damn, that’s a pretty hole.”

Nagito had a complicated relationship with praise. On one hand, he never truly felt he deserved it, but on the other, he wasn’t in a position to accuse an Ultimate of lying. He had no choice but to believe Nekomaru, and the idea that his body would be appreciated by someone that inspired so much hope made Nagito dizzy. Dizzy, and painfully hard.

“You can do whatever you want to me.” The smaller man offered, and Nekomaru obliged quicker than even Nagito could’ve anticipated.

Suddenly, a calloused pointer finger, still slick with Nagito’s spit, was pushing at his entrance, and after willing himself to relax, Nagito felt the digit slip in, causing a familiar sting that he’d only ever felt after working two fingers into himself. This was already a million times better than that.

“And you’re tight too.” Nekomaru mused to himself as he pushed himself into his second knuckle. The fingering was rougher than Nagito would’ve expected from the team manager, but he wasn’t complaining. “Guessing you haven’t had many guys before?”

The question seemed more rhetorical than anything, so Nagito just moaned in response as Nekomaru rocked his body back and forth with each push of his thick finger. After maybe a minute or so, Nagito felt another finger press against him, and after a moment of Nekomaru struggling to force it in, Nagito pushed himself back and finally got the middle finger in beside the pointer.

It burned.

But fuck did it feel so good.

Nekomaru’s fingers were thick solid, and Nagito couldn’t recall a time where he’d ever felt so full. He wanted to beg for more, but he knew better than to open his mouth and ask for something. He didn’t deserve to chase his own pleasure, this was all for Nekomaru, and he liked it that way.

Fortunately for him, however, Nekomaru also must’ve been eager to speed things along, because he began to scissor his fingers and stretch Nagito out. It got to the point where that gentle sting melted away completely, leaving behind a blissful pressure and nothing else. That bliss doubled when Nekomaru, after shifting his fingers around, brushed against that spot in Nagito, and the smaller man cried out a high pitched sob and he thrusted himself back against Nekomaru’s hand.

“There it is!” Nekomaru boomed, his previous reticence overtaken by some kind of lustful pride. “That your sweet spot?” Nagito whined a response, but it must not have been good enough because Nekomaru brought his free hand across Nagito’s ass with a loud _smack_ that Nagito was sure left his entire cheek red. “If I ask you a question, you gotta answer, ok?”

“O – Ok.” The one syllable was interrupted by another well aimed push against his prostate.

“Good. That feel good?”

Nagito could write an essay on how good it felt, but for now, he settled with a weak, whimpering “yes.”

“Yeah, I know it does.” And that’s when Nekomaru placed his free hand on the small of Nagito’s back to keep him in place, and then pressed his fingers hard against his prostate, rubbing back and forth over and over until Nagito was shaking and squirming against the hands and chains restraining him.

Nekomaru just let out a hearty laugh that shouldn’t have been nearly as sexy as it was. “Look at you! For such a scary guy you’re pretty easy to take down. I bet I could make you cum just like this.”

He absolutely could, but the thought made Nagito panic.

“No. Please don’t. I don’t want –” He didn’t get to finish the thought. Didn’t get to tell Nekomaru that he didn’t want to cum because he didn’t deserve to, because Nekomaru cut him off.

“I get it. You don’t wanna cum before we get to the main event.” Nekomaru leaned his hulking frame over Nagito’s body to purr in his ear. “Guess we better get a move on then. I don’t suppose you just keep lube on you, do ya?”

“Storeroom!” Nagito surprised himself with how fast he answered. “The storeroom next to the kitchen there was some kind of lube. You can use that.”

“Perfect.” Nekomaru leaned back and stood up, but not before smacking Nagito once more across the ass. “You be a good boy and stay just like that, ya hear?”

Knowing that every question had to be answered now, Nagito gave his affirmation and listened as Nekomaru’s heavy footsteps padded away. It was almost embarrassing being stuck like this; hands chained behind his back, face pressed against the floor, hole loose and red while his dick hangs between his legs with a growing puddle of precum beneath it. The position was downright shameful, and it only made Nagito more desperate for Nekomaru’s return.

He didn’t have to wait long before the sound of a stampede drew closer, which could only mean that Nekomaru was back.

“Damn, you didn’t move at all. Good boy!” Nekomaru practically cheered as he squatted down and soothed what Nagito could only assume were red handprints on his ass. “Hope I didn’t keep you waiting long.” To err on the side of caution, Nagito gave a barely audible reply as he heard the sound of a cap popping open. He braced himself for the cool sensation of lube, but was pleasantly surprised to find that, as Nekomaru brought his slicked fingers back to his hole, they were rather warm. Another surprise was just how much lube Nekomaru seemed to have on his fingers, and the fact that he seemed to be pushing it into Nagito rather than just spreading it around the entrance.

“Trust me,” Nekomaru must’ve sensed Nagito’s confusion, “you’re gonna need it.”

The thought made Nagito shiver. Obviously he assumed that Nekomaru was… proportional, but having him basically confirm it increased Nagito’s anticipation tenfold. With the positioning of his body, he couldn’t get a good look when Nekomaru began unzipping his fly and shimmying out of his pants, but when the larger man got back down and teasingly smacked his erection against Nagito’s ass, he realized he somehow underestimated Nekomaru’s size. It felt like he was hitting him with his forearm.

Jesus Christ.

Nekomaru was going to become a blackened by the end of this.

“You ready.” Nekomaru’s voice harmonized with the wet sound of him slicking up his cock. It was a very good question that Nagito wasn’t sure he had the answer to, but he’d gone this far and he was desperate to be filled again, so he mustered up a deprived “please” to coax the other into action.

Nekomaru chuckled. “You sound so damn needy right now. You really think you’ve earned it?”

It was just teasing, Nagito knew that, but he decided to answer seriously.

“No. I know I haven’t earned it, but please –”

And suddenly, the weight against his ass was gone, replaced by the feeling of Nekomaru once more leaning over Nagito’s body to speak directly in his ear.

“Hey. Listen to me. I’m getting real tired of hearing you degrade yourself. You’re not worthless. You know you deserve to feel good, right?” No. No, no, no. This wasn’t part of Nagito’s plan. Nekomaru was supposed to use him and get out and he wasn’t supposed to –

“Nagito.” God his voice sounded so good in Nekomaru’s mouth. “I asked you something.”

“I’m sorry, I –”

“Don’t apologize. Just answer me. You know you deserve to feel good, right?”

Nagito inhaled. The words he knew he needed to say, to believe, felt sour and viscous in his mouth, like a toxic syrup he was being forced to swallow. But Nekomaru was patient. He waited for the reply, rubbing circles along the small of Nagito’s back and kissed gently at his ear. Eventually, the words shot out.

“I know.”

“You know what?”

“I know I deserve to feel good.”

Nekomaru bit at Nagito’s lobe and groaned – a deep, grumbly sound that went straight to Nagito’s dick.

“Exactly. You deserve to feel _so_ good. After you took my fingers so well. After you waited for me with your pretty little ass in the air.”

Slowly but surely, each word was becoming easier to accept. Nekomaru was desensitizing Nagito to the bitter guilt that came with the praise he didn’t feel he deserved, and much to Nagito’s horror, he was starting to believe what Nekomaru was saying. He was starting to believe that he’d earned his own pleasure.

“So I’m going to ask you again.” Nekomaru leaned back and positioned himself once more. “Do you think you deserve to get fucked by me?”

Nagito didn’t even hesitate.

“Yes.”

Placing his hand on Nagito’s shoulder to steady himself, Nekomaru pressed into the smaller man, and it felt just as overwhelming as Nagito expected. His mouth cycled through numerous shapes, but he couldn’t vocalize a single thought, only finding himself able to choke on different noises as he adjusted the impossible pressure burrowing through him.

“Shit!” Nekomaru exclaimed. “You’re taking it so fuckin’ well.”

The praise sent a tingly feeling flittering around through Nagito’s head, though it also might have been a result of Nekomaru’s dick pressing against his prostate. Nagito arched his back on instinct.

“Damn you’re hungry for it. Lucky for you, I’m not even halfway in yet.”

At that, Nagito’s eyes shot open. He already felt unbelievably full, and if Nekomaru’s length was as impressive as his girth, Nagito was going to need to see Mikan later. This was a couple of inches away from turning into an execution, and honestly, Nagito loved it.

Just like with the fingers, the unpleasant stretch gave way to unreal pleasure, and after a few more agonizingly slow moments, Nagito felt Nekomaru’s hips press against his ass. Stunned was the only word that could describe Nagito at the moment. He couldn’t speak, he couldn’t move, he couldn’t even think. All he could do was feel. Feel how hot and heavy and secure it was to have Nekomaru sheathed inside him. He lived in that sensation for a few moments, acclimating to the fullness until it became a familiar pleasure rather than an intrusion.

“Oh God, please. Please, Nekomaru, start moving.”

Nekomaru rubbed his hands up and down Nagito’s sides. “Good. That’s good. Asking for what you want.” He grabbed a fistful of messy white hair and pulled Nagito up so the smaller man was flush against the mountain of muscle of Nekomaru’s chest. “And when you ask so nicely, I just can’t say no.”

And that was the only warning Nagito got before Nekomaru slid out until just the tip remained, and then pushed all the way back in. It wasn’t hard or rough, but it was forceful and steady, and it made Nagito’s eyes roll back into his head as he made some garbled noise he couldn’t begin to try and describe. This became the pace of their fucking, deliberate and powerful, and it was driving Nagito insane.

“Please.” Nagito reached his arms up and behind him to grab at Nekomaru’s neck. “Go faster. I need it faster.”

“Faster?” Nekomaru rubbed his thumbs across Nagito’s nipples and tongued at his ear. “That might hurt, baby boy. You sure you want it rough?”

It took Nagito a moment to quell the noises spilling from his mouth to answer. “Yes. I like it rough. I want it to hurt.”

“Yeah?” With a suddenly fast snap of his hips, Nekomaru practically threw Nagito face first onto the floor. The smaller barely had time to prop himself up on his elbows before Nekomaru increased his movements to a brutal pace.

Each thrust rocked Nagito forward, and were it not for Nekomaru’s large hands holding him steady, he probably would’ve slid across the floor from the force of the pounding. And even though it bordered on too much, it was exactly what Nagito wanted. He’d asked for this, and Nekomaru had complied. Nekomaru wanted to make Nagito feel good. This man, whose entire life had been dedicated to appraising other people, believed that Nagito deserved these sensations. Tears were starting to collect on the floor beneath Nagito’s cheek, and he couldn’t tell if they were from the physical pleasure or the emotional undertones of an otherwise ruthless fucking.

Nagito began to vocalize these feelings through sobs and cries and moans. He whimpered and mewled after each slam of Nekomaru’s hips against his ass, sounding more and more like a needy whore as the minutes passed by.

“So fuckin’ pretty.” Nekomaru crooned. “You make the prettiest noises, you know that?”

“Ngh.” Nagito choked on whatever reply he was going to make.

“Ya know, if you took compliments as well as you took cock, you might start seeing your worth.” The smaller man whined. He couldn’t take any more of this, but Nekomaru wouldn’t relent. “Your ass looks so good all red and raw like this. It’s fuckin’ beautiful.”

“N – Nekomaru!” There was more to that sentence, but it got lost somewhere between a series of particularly strong thrusts.

“God that sounds so hot. Can’t wait to hear what noises you make when you cum.”

Nagito groaned into the floorboards in response. It was almost as if the mere mention of his orgasm had brought him to the brink, because an intense warmth had settled itself deep in Nagito’s gut, like a hot coal resting in his stomach.

“Nekomaru… I’m – I’m close…” The words were intercut with gasps and whines.

“Yeah?” Nekomaru maintained his pace. “Me too. You gonna be a good boy and cum for me?”

It was too much. The fucking. The praise. Everything. Nagito teetered over the edge and answered Nekomaru with a strangled moan as he came, untouched, all over the floor beneath him. The orgasm rocked him harder than any other, and the aftershocks of it were melting his mind to butter and Nekomaru somehow managed to fuck him even harder. The movements of his hips got sloppier and sloppier, a telltale sign of what was about to happen.

“SHIT!” Nekomaru roared, cumming inside Nagito’s ass. If Nagito thought he felt full before, this new sensation demanded a new word entirely. He could feel the warmth of Nekomaru’s load spilling inside him, and when Nekomaru pulled out, he felt it leak down the skin of his shaking thighs.

Sated and overwhelmed, Nagito collapsed onto the cold floor, his stomach landing in his own mess.

In the back of his mind, Nagito could hear Nekomaru saying something to him. Something about worth and value and hope, but in his post orgasm haze, it was also just radio chatter that he dignified with vague grunts of acknowledgment. Minutes passed in a blur. He barely registered a wet towel gliding over his skin (where did Nekomaru get a towel? And wasn’t the water shut off?), the sudden restrictive feeling of his clothes being put back on, and the sobering sensation of Nekomaru’s lips against his own.

“We’ll figure out something to do with you.” Was the last thing Nagito heard before he was once again left alone. It was troubling, the tone of Nekomaru’s voice as he said that. He almost sounded sad. Had Nagito done something wrong? He would’ve given it some thought if his mind was capable of processing anything other than base urges right now.

Speaking of which…

Nagito was suddenly very hungry. Not surprising, considering the energy he’d just exerted, but the pangs in his stomach were starting to dampen the orgasmic high he was still riding. Looking around the room, he became aware of a few things. First, was the plate of rice and chicken, still sitting there in the middle of the room. The second was the absence of tightness around his wrists. Somewhere in the cleanup process, Nekomaru must’ve unchained him for a reason that Nagito couldn’t be bothered to think about. Maybe he trusted him. A terrible decision, Nagito realized, but the least he could do to thank him for the sex was not run away, and so the only move he made was to the food left for him.

With shaky fingers – damn was that some good sex – Nagito lifted a piece of chicken and took a hearty bite out of it. He hummed in appreciation; the taste was definitely starting to grow on him.


End file.
